


7 come 11

by LadyTsunadeSenjou



Category: Naruto
Genre: #AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTsunadeSenjou/pseuds/LadyTsunadeSenjou
Summary: Jiraiya was in a rock band in the 80s that sold their soul to the devil at the Mississippi crossroads. Thinking he would break the curse by not reaching peak fame, Jiraiya quit music and bought a casino. Now the Devil has come to collect his due, putting Jiraiya and his part-time lover, the recently widowed Tsunade in danger. Can they break the curse in time?





	7 come 11

Jiraiya hummed as he showered, lathering himself with the luxurious sponge. Outside the frosted shower door, the room was steamy, the mirror fogged over. The scent of masculinity and musk drifted out of the bathroom on the wisps of steam that escaped under the door. 

When he finished, he stepped out onto the fluffy soft rug by the tub. His wet hair hung down his back, well below his shoulders, in a white cascade that was nothing short of majestic. Ignoring the steam and fog, Jiraiya wrapped himself in a plush towel and stepped out into the bedroom of the suite he lived in above the Silver Star Casino. His bed was empty, which it had most definitely not been when he went for the shower. Pursing his lips, he looked out into the front room, which was also empty. He peered past the bar into the kitchen on the other side of the room and sighed. 

“At least she made coffee this time.” He muttered as he went into the small kitchen to procure a cup. Jiraiya put in two sugar cubes and some creamer before tasting the life giving liquid.

Sipping the hot cup of coffee, Jiraiya went back into the bedroom where the window looked out over the street below. In the cold, gray dawn, taxis lined the street outside, picking up guests from the casino that had gambled the night away and were too inebriated to drive. He hoped he would see her among them, but he didn’t. He never did. He thought of her as some sort of nocturnal animal, not unlike a raccoon, that vanished in the daytime and reappeared at night as if they had always been there.

Tsunade and Jiraiya had met in the casino downstairs. She was a terrible gambler, and Jiraiya had bailed her out of a tight spot at the blackjack table one night. He hadn’t asked for her favors in return; he had merely been trying to help a lady out. Obviously, Tsunade had some issues and this was some sort of therapy for her. But somehow after a few drinks, she made it to Jiraiya’s room. The rest was, as they say, history. She came at night, usually Jiraiya gambled with her and then after they ended up here in his bed. By morning she would be gone. Sometimes she made him coffee, like this morning. They never had a conversation deeper than current events and celebrity gossip that circled in Vegas. Yet, she returned here each night looking for this relief.

Jiraiya turned away from the window and his curiosity of Tsunade’s whereabouts. His phone jangled from the night stand, drawing his attention to what he was sure was business. 

“Hello?” Jiraiya answered, sipping his coffee as he checked out his reflection in the mirror. 

“Jiraiya? You need to come down to the office as soon as possible. Someone robbed us last night.” The voice on the other end, which Jiraiya identified as Asuma, said in a tight and serious tone.

“What do you mean someone robbed us last night? Why are we just now discussing it this morning?” Jiraiya’s good mood slipped away quickly. 

“I noticed that the roulette money wasn’t in the safe after Marshall left his shift. I went looking for it. I thought he had taken it to his room inadvertently. Marshall never struck me as a thief. I’ve found his body between the dumpster and the parking deck.”

Jiraiya nearly choked on his coffee, he sputtered on the warm liquid as he struggled to form words. “Body? Have you called the police?”

“Of course not,” Asuma replied as casually as if he was declining pepperoni on a pizza. “I wanted to call you first. It’s your casino.”

Jiraiya rolled his eyes. If this had been anyone else, he would have thought they were joking. But Asuma wasn’t joking. He had no use for cops. 

“Close the back parking lot and don’t let anyone out the back door. I’ll be right down,” Jiraiya instructed firmly. He ended the call and went to his closet for his suit.

In fifteen minutes, he was stepping off the elevator into the casino hotel lobby. Dressed in a three piece suit, hair neatly tied back, he made his way towards the back door, nodding good morning to his staff as if he weren’t going to see a dead body lying in his back parking lot. It was most assuredly not how he enjoyed starting off his day, he mused as he made his way through the back service halls. He made a note to hire more staff, these back areas were pretty dusty. 

Out the back door into he parking lot, Jiraiya had to let his eyes adjust to the bright morning sun. Asuma was waiting for him by the building, calmly smoking a cigarette. Asuma tossed the butt on the ground and crushed it under his shoe when he saw Jiraiya. He nodded towards the dumpster. “Over there.” 

Sure enough, Marshall’s shoes were visible from behind the large blue dumpster. Jiraiya walked closer, peering at Marshall with a grimace. The body was still not mutilated at all. Rather, it looked as if he had passed out drunk. But flies were already starting to buzz around the body, leaving no doubt he was dead. Jiraiya could see no obvious reason for the death yet. With a deep frown he called the police. 

Within the hour, the body was being carried away in a coroner van, the area was roped off, and detectives were rifling through the dumpster and the parking lot. Asuma provided the security tapes to the confused officers. They were the last business in town still using CCTV and VCR for security. The officers seemed content it was a robbery gone wrong; their questions were just the usual.

When they left, Jiraiya turned to go back inside. He was sorry for Marshall’s loss, but there would need to be damage control to keep customers from being frightened, and a replacement needed to be found.

“Jiraiya?” Asuma followed him. “What do you plan to do now?”

“I will pay for his funeral and see if his family needs help, if he had any family. I never knew him that well. But otherwise I need more security around the perimeter and a replacement.” Jiraiya replied in all seriousness as he headed for back of the casino where his office was.

“I have something you should see.” Asuma pulled a tape from the pocket of his blue silk jacket that was emblazon with the Silver Star logo across the back and in miniature on the front.

“This is no time to be watching porn, Asuma.” Jiraiya said with a weak smile. He opened his office with a key from his ring of many keys in his pocket.

“This isn’t porn.” Asuma chuckled and followed Jiraiya into the main office, flipping on the light as they entered.

“Then why the hell would I want to watch it?” Jiraiya took off his coat and hung it on the rack by the door before moving to his desk and sitting. He watched Asuma put the tape into the ancient VCR, and made a note he needed to upgrade this casino’s security.

On the tape, Jiraiya watched Marshall walk across the back parking lot with trash in hand. He walked just out of the camera’s path, nothing about this seemed to be out of the ordinary until a bright light emanated from a source off camera. The light swept across the parking lot, under where the camera was mounted. There was no sound. A wave of static cut the camera off as if the light had been some sort of interference.

“I didn’t touch the body. I didn’t see how he died.” Jiraiya sat back in his chair and sipped his now cold cup of coffee. He made a face of disgust and set the cup aside. “I will not be surprised if his autopsy says there’s not a mark on him.”

“The police have roped off the whole back to investigate.” Asuma said as he looked out the big window behind Jiraiya’s desk. 

“Fat lot of good that’ll do ‘em,” Jiraiya sighed when he stood. “They won’t catch this person. I am going out for coffee and donuts. Want anything?”

“Our roulette operator gets killed and you are going out for coffee and donuts?” Asuma turned to Jiraiya, surprised. The curtain fell closed behind him. His tone and expression gave away his surprise.

“What would you have me do? The man is dead. I am still very much alive and I’m hungry. Do you want donuts or not?” Jiraiya repeated. 

“Fine, yes. But what about Marshall?” Asuma followed his boss.

Jiraiya pressed the elevator button. “What’s Marshall going to do with donuts? He’s dead.” 

They stepped into the elevator and turned to watch the doors close. Asuma glanced at Jiraiya as the elevator went down. “Did you not like Marshall?”

“I didn’t know him well. He was stealing a grand a week from me anyhow. I figured he needed it pretty bad to take such a brazen risk. Addiction, child support, God only knows. But I didn’t kill him, if that’s what you think.” Jiraiya raised a brow at Asuma.

“You said they would never catch the killer. Do you know who did it?” Asuma followed Jiraiya outside the casino into the street. The morning sun was bright overhead, only a few wispy clouds marred an otherwise perfect sky.

Jiraiya didn’t look at Asuma, he walked straight through the growing crowds of tourists coming in for the days activities. When they reached the coffee shop on the corner, Jiraiya still hadn’t spoken. Once his order for coffee and a donut were filled, he stood by the bar waiting on Asuma to receive his food as well. 

“I was in a rock band back in the late eighties.” Jiraiya confessed as he sipped the delicious coffee. I was well worth the five bucks. 

“A hair band?” Asuma asked, eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t know why he was surprised at all.

Jiraiya grumbled in annoyance. “We had hair, yes. I hate that term. But it was a weird time. We were competing with some big names. Our singer was into the occult and all that jazz. He talked us into going to Mississippi and selling our soul at the crossroad.”

“The crossroads?” Asuma followed Jiraiya to a small table by the window. Jiraiya bumped his head on the low hanging light that looked vintage.

Jiraiya steadied the swinging light and sighed. “In Clarksdale, Mississippi there’s a junction to highways 49 and 61. If you stand out there at midnight, the devil comes and makes a deal with you. Fame for your soul.”

Asuma raised a brow, “You did that?”

“I was young. Stupid.” Jiraiya bit into his donut and took his time eating it. “But yeah, we did.”

Asuma leaned closer, on edge and eager for more. “Is that stuff real? Was it really the devil?”

“You know at the time I didn’t believe all that jazz. I thought it was some sort of prank or stunt. Whatever. But a year later we hit it big on a song, and then we lost our singer in a freak accident. Electrocuted by his microphone on stage.” Jiraiya looked around, crumpling the paper wrapper his donut had been handed to him in. “I had been reading up on the ones who had done this before us and it seemed they were all dying as they hit their peak of fame, at around twenty-seven years old. Our guitarist was killed in a terrible car crash on his twenty-seventh birthday. I quit that night. I took every dime I had and bought the casino. That’s why I live there. I could afford to live anywhere but I choose not to flaunt any sort of my fame. Now he has come to collect.”

“Who?”

“Weren’t you listening? The goddamn devil.” Jiraiya drank the rest of his coffee.

“What does this have to do with the murder of our roulette dealer?” Asuma rubbed his beard, puzzled.

“That was whatever demon he has sent to collect striking out at me. It was a warning they are here.” Jiraiya stood up. “We should get back.”

Asuma tossed his trash and followed Jiraiya back to the casino. “Here I was thinking you were involved in some mafia bullshit.”

“I am.” Jiraiya quickened his pace as the wind picked up, bringing the smell of rain to the desert. The sky was darkening rapidly, storms usually came up quick out here. “Get on the phone, Asuma, and find out Marshall’s burial arrangement, his family, all that. I’ll cut the checks.”


End file.
